


Shall We Dance?

by LinguistLove_24



Category: Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Clubbing, Drinking, Drinking Games, F/F, F/M, Lesbian Sex, My First Smut, Porn With Plot, Public Foreplay, Public Masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-10 22:20:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11701020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinguistLove_24/pseuds/LinguistLove_24
Summary: "There was something about her eyes that captivated you, and for some reason I found myself hating to disappoint this perfect stranger, needing to let her down gently."..for anyone in this fandom who enjoys F/F fictions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blush8657](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blush8657/gifts), [AnirtakShenwoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnirtakShenwoi/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Havana Liberation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9385544) by [Blush8657](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blush8657/pseuds/Blush8657). 



> SO, this took me FOREVER to start and didn't quite come out as expected. But, I finished the first bit it and it is my first foray into the F/F side of the fandom. I don't feel I am nearly as talented at (or comfortable with) writing smut as some of the other amazing authors here *cough cough* RacingHeart, Blush8657... but this is my attempt. Please don't eat me alive. 
> 
> FOREWARNING: This work contains public foreplay, masturbation and lesbian interaction. If that is not your thing, please find another direction in which to avert your eyeballs. Echoing Blush's sentiments, if you choose to read the tags/warnings/work and are offended, that is on you. Please don't bitch. Otherwise, comments are always appreciated and welcome.
> 
> HUGE thanks to Blush for reading this in stages and encouraging it. I saw that you've gifted me the sequel to HL and I promise you I WILL read it asap. ;) xxx 
> 
> SIDENOTE: Credit for the opening lyrics goes to Lady Antebellum and their song 'Bartender'.

**Shall We Dance?**

 

 

 _...What I’m really needing now,_  
_is a double shot of Crown,_  
_chase that disco ball around,_  
_'til I don’t remember._  
_Go until they cut me off,_  
_wanna get a little lost,_  
_in the noise, in the lights,_

_hey, bartender …_

 

The same song that had played on a loop on the drive over pulsated entirely too loudly around me as I sat perched on the barstool I'd chosen to occupy when I walked into the nondescript little dive. I hadn't planned on being there, couldn't even recall the last time I'd found myself in a club sort of setting. As I downed the last bit of my second Whiskey and Ginger, I ran a forefinger over the froth still left on the outside of the glass and examined the throngs of people dispersed throughout the space. The lenses of oversized sunglasses (which I'd chosen to keep on in hopes of being adequately disguised) tinted the images of sweating, dancing, gyrating masses – some appeared to be drunker than I'd probably ever been. Is this how normal people acted when they wanted to forget?

 

“I'll have what she's having.”

 

The stool next to mine was claimed, and a purse – the looks of a knock off Louis Vuitton – came into my peripheral.

 

“God, I'm probably the last person you should be taking after right now,” I told the mystery woman dryly. When I straightened my posture to better look at her, she smiled genuinely at me.

 

“Rough night, love?” she asked, and I depicted an accent, though despite my extensive travels, I couldn't place it.

 

“You could say that,” I answered, thankful not to have been recognised, though I wasn't sure it was for the help of the shades covering my face or the dark, cloaking nearly everyone in anonymity. The bartender slid her Whiskey and Ginger across to her and she signalled for him to top me off.

 

“'nother one for the lady. What's your name, love?”

 

“Heidi,” I lied, having to think on the spot of an alias. “You?”

 

“Rachel,” she responded before picking up her glass and taking a long pull. The barman slid my fresh drink across the partition, and I nodded my thanks.

 

“Well, Rachel,” I smiled, though I doubted if she could tell. “You didn't have to do that. I've had enough, really.” I opened the small clutch I kept next to me and fished for some bills, both loving and hating the lack of light at that moment. After fumbling an undetermined amount of time, I slid a ten across to her. “For your trouble,” I said, bending close to her ear in effort to be heard.

 

 

“Ah, don't be daft.” Waving a hand in a dismissive motion, she half smiled. “I've got you. You don't have to drink it.”

 

“Well, thanks,” I said, pulling it toward me and knowing I probably would, if for no other reason than the fact it was paid for on someone else's dime.

 

“No problem. So tell me about this rough night you've been having?” Rachel turned in her seat, gazed inquisitively at me, brow raised, head slightly cocked. Some part of me wondered if she were genuinely interested, and I questioned how much I could – or should – divulge.

 

“I don't share my secrets with strangers,” I answered after long pause, mulling over possible responses in my head and deciding to play it safe, guard ultimately returning.

 

“Share some of yours and I'll share mine,” Rachel winked suggestively, impish grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I promise they're safe with me.”

 

_What are the odds I'll ever see her again?_

 

Sighing, I half turned, matched the pose of the woman opposite. “My husband and I had a fight,” I said, figuring my response to be ambiguous enough.

 

“He didn't hit you, did he?” Rachel nodded toward the shades still perched on my face and I fought to conceal a look of horror.

 

“God, no,” I breathed, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. “Just a lover's quarrel.”

 

Rachel nodded in understanding. “My boyfriend dumped me tonight,” she told me solemnly, and by the look on her face I could tell she was genuinely heartbroken.

 

“Sorry,” I said gently. “You okay?”

 

“Ah, it's been coming for a while,” she said, taking another swig of her drink. “Doesn't make it any easier.”

 

“There are other fish in the sea, my dear,” I told her, nearly cringing when I realised how old and utterly cliché I sounded. Funny how often the cliches everyone rolled their eyes at and tired of hearing proved to ring so incredibly true.

 

“Shall we dance, then?”

 

 

It took me a moment to register the question or that Rachel was asking it of me.

 

“Hmm?” I looked quizzically at her, my confusion eliciting a laugh.

 

“To forget about our fish and what they've put us through,” she smiled playfully. “Dance with me?”

 

“Oh, I'm not much of a dancer.” I didn't think I was. Not on my own. Bill could whisk me around a dance floor and have me completely at ease. Thinking about him as I sat there gazing at Rachel, her questioning eyes waiting for some kind of response, I was momentarily wistful. She was not my husband, he was not there, but some part of me was intrigued and I couldn't bring myself to let go. My anger and frustrations at Bill may have been fuelling my inclination to stay, but the heady effect of drink on an empty stomach, I knew, would definitely prohibit me dancing.

 

“Please?” Rachel implored. There was something about her eyes that captivated you, and for some reason I found myself hating to disappoint this perfect stranger, needing to let her down gently.

 

“I really can't,” I said, casting my gaze away, feeling my stomach rumble so much I wondered if Rachel could hear it over the din of the music. “I do need food, though. I'll sit with you?”

 

“Sure.” If Rachel was disappointed, she didn't show it. She flashed an easy smile my way, gently clasping my hand as she led me to a two seater booth tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the dance floor.

 

Sliding into the seat, I tried and failed to make out the words on the menu card in a holder nearest me.

 

 _Whatever you do, do not take off the shades,_ I told myself.

 

“Burger, love?” Rachel's voice pulled me out of my own head and my eyes locked onto the facial outline of a tired waitress, who stood tapping pen to pad impatiently.

 

“Sorry,” I mumbled apologetically. “Sure.”

 

**///**

 

“Truth or dare?” Rachel slurred, looking across the booth at me with the carefree sort of expression only alcohol could afford you. Nearly an hour later, we'd covered topics ranging from tedious to pushing the boundaries of profane, and another waitress had cleared our plates away leaving only our empty shot glasses covering the space between us. I'd lost count long ago of just how many I'd knocked back, and as the headiness from earlier in the evening returned – intensified measurably – I was glad for my decision to put something substantial in my stomach.

 

“Oh no,” I laughed. “I'm not getting sucked into that one.”

 

“Oh, come on, it's all in fun,” Rachel squealed, jabbing the air for effect. “Secrets are safe with me, remember?”

 

_What are the odds you're ever going to see her again?_

 

The little voice inside my head made me wonder if excessive alcohol consumption had always caused me to feel as though I had the proverbial devil-holding-pitchfork perched on one shoulder, or if this was simply the first time in a long time I could remember allowing myself to give in to such a presumed presence.

 

_Don't take off the shades, Heidi._

 

I turned my face a brief moment so Rachel wouldn't see the budding impish grin spreading slowly across one side of my face. “Fine,” I sighed in mock exasperation. Who's up first?”

 

“You,” Rachel said confidently, myself forgetting she'd been the one to broach the premise of this little game in the first place. “And if we say truth and lie when we give an answer,” she intoned, hiccoughs lacing her words, “we have to take another shot.”

 

 _Well, I'm royally fucked,_ I thought dryly as I followed Rachel's movements with my eyes and watched her flag down a third waitress for another round in preparation.

 

**///**

 

“I have never wanted to be famous,” Rachel stated, staring directly at me. The lawyer in me somehow instantly knew that a dark room and oversized shades wouldn't impede her ability to tell whether or not I was lying, but I was thankful she'd decided to go easy my first round.

 

 _If you only knew who I really was,_ I thought, trying desperately not to smile. _Wanting and being are two totally different things, aren't they? Had I wanted the fame I'd been afforded on the political stage? I don't think I'd expected it on such a scale, but I had wanted it to some degree, for the greater good. To help people._

 

 _“_ Untrue,” I said.

 

“Really?” Rachel gasped, eyes alight with curiosity. “What did you want to be?”

 

“Is it in the rulebook that I must be truthful in answering any follow up questions to my original answer?” I quipped, my own eyes sparkling under the tinted lenses of my shades.

 

“It is now,” Rachel shot back. “Fess up. What did you want to be famous for?”

 

“Philanthropy,” I answered, pleased with myself over not having lied outright. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

 

“Truth,” she said easily.

 

“Okay,” I paused, thinking. _What could I dig out of this woman that may surprise me?_ “Best thing you've ever done?”

 

 

The way her smile faded and her posture changed, I thought I may have touched a nerve. Guilt crept in and tangled itself with the alcohol coursing through my bloodstream as I sat dangled precariously between the realms of drunkenness and sobriety.

 

“Graduated,” she said, unable to stop the pitch of her voice from raising and making it seem as though she were questioning the weight of her own truth.

 

“Lie,” I said flatly, keeping my tone quiet. I'd gotten the feeling she didn't want to tell me what truth she'd concealed behind it.

 

Rachel downed another shot, resigned to having been caught. Setting the shot glass back down on the table top, I wondered if she'd regret her own impromptu rule of remaining truthful should the other player ask for further explanations.

 

“Best thing you've ever done?” I asked again, softly as I could for all the noise in the place.

 

As I had done earlier, she seemed to be weighing her options, wondering how much she should allow to slip from loosened lips, contemplating the odds of crossing paths with me again.

 

“Giving someone else the chance to be the mother that I couldn't.”

 

I stared, genuinely at a loss, felt my mouth rounded into a tiny 'o' and hoped my jaw wouldn't fall open and hit the floor. I didn't know if Rachel saw my expression, but I didn't have long to wonder before she elaborated.

 

“I was seventeen in a bad situation. Couldn't do that to my baby. Wanted her brought up better than that.”

 

 _Her._ This perfect stranger had a daughter existing somewhere out there in the world. I didn't know Rachel's story – or much more than her name for that matter – but for a brief few moments I allowed myself to imagine the agony of her decision. I felt for her struggles, whatever they may have been. I caught myself wondering – even with the state of my fogged mind – whether or not the mystery child looked like her mother.

 

Rachel was beautiful. Not in an overdone, glossy magazine cover sort of way, but with ordinary qualities that sparkled and shone in the right light.

 

Long brown hair fell in loose curls framing a thin – albeit pleasant – face before cascading down her back. Her smile was plain but genuine, teeth well kept but not perfectly straight or flashy white. From what I could make out in the dark, she carried any and all extra weight well, knew what to wear to make the most of her assets.

 

 _Push up bra hiding under that dress is accentuating a couple of 'em,_ I thought. _Maybe the 'right lights' were the ones glinting from a beholder's eyes._ I felt my cheeks flush over my whirring, silent thoughts. I'd never thought of female strangers in such a way before.

 

_When have you ever found yourself in this sort of scenario with one of them?_

 

Never.

 

My husband was sitting at home thinking I was still angry with him, wasn't he? He'd been the first one to say we needed time to cool off.

 

_And so here you sit._

 

I loved him, I would always love him, but should he ask about tonight, it was the outcome of merely taking him up on his own suggestion.

 

I stifled a chuckle.

 

“Heidi, you okay?” Rachel asked me, catching me lost in my thoughts.

 

“Yeah, sorry.” I came to. “What?”

 

“I said your turn,” Rachel smiled. “Truth or dare?”

 

“Dare.”

 

_God help me._

 

“I dare you,” Rachel enunciated slowly (seductively?) “to take the shades off.”

 

My fingers went to the left arm of them almost protectively.

 

_Oh, Lord.._

 

Bile rose in my throat as I tried to hold back vomit.

 

_Please don't recognise me._

 

For once I was glad to have agents tailing me everywhere, hiding in nondescript nooks and crannies, disguising themselves as normal citizens so as to protect the perimeters of any place I frequented or fancied.

 

_Should this evening go to shit, they'd better have a quick exit strategy.._

 

“Come on,” Rachel coaxed. “Can't back off from a dare.”

 

I exhaled slowly, inched the glasses upward so the lenses sat against the top of my head. Rachel didn't seem any the wiser, meeting my unveiled gaze with nothing but a smile.

 

“You've lovely eyes,” she told me, and I thought I detected the faintest hints of lust dripping from her compliment.

 

“Thank you. As do you.”

 

For a while, neither one of us spoke. I wondered if Rachel's ears were humming too, an after effect of having been exposed to too much bass at the highest possible volume for however long we'd been in each other's company. It struck me then that I hadn't thought to put on a watch before leaving the house, or bothered to check the time since before I'd walked into the place.

 

“Sit with me,” she mouthed after an undetermined amount of time lost in as much silence as the situation would allow.

 

“But I am sitting with you,” I said, confused.

 

She laughed, subconsciously tipping her head back. “I mean next to me.” A delicate hand patted the faded space of cushion beside her, and I surprised myself by rising up off my opposing seat almost immediately without hesitating.

 

I situated myself next to her, felt the outside of one of her thin thighs connect with my thicker ones. Even through the leg of my pantsuit, I could feel the softness of young, supple skin.

 

“Truth or dare?” I asked after downing another shot for no reason at all, wanting to take the attention away from myself.

 

“Dare,” Rachel said boldly.

 

“I dare you,” I heard myself say, the last shot having affected my speech considerably, “to let me see what's under that dress.” My voice sounded distorted, far away to my own ears. I had said it as a joke (or maybe only half of one?) Blush was coating the entirety of my neck, and I wasn't far enough from Rachel anymore to conceal it.

 

_Heidi, what the fuck are you doing? Control yourself._

 

As I sat there in my apprehension, all shallow breaths and radiating skin, I decided that Heidi would permanently have to become the name for my alter ego.

 

My focus turned again to the brown eyed beauty next to me, and I noticed she had divested herself of her footwear, leaving the flats situated next to each other beneath the table. Long slender legs were tucked under her, and she balanced her well proportioned frame on her knees as they pushed indentations into the long seat.

 

Slowly, making herself out to be a masterful seductress, Rachel undid the top three buttons on her light, flowing garment, sliding the sleeves midway down her shoulders.

 

_Christ._

 

Full, perky bosom filled out a soft looking pink bra, spilling over the lace trim at the top as she shuffled herself inches closer to me.

 

I had not left my house this evening expecting to end up with breasts in my face, especially not ones like hers.

 

“Touch 'em.” Her lilt pulled me out of a trance, left me blinking quickly several times over.

 

“Wha-?”

 

All moisture had vanished from the inside of my mouth, seemingly instantaneously.

 

“Touch. Them,” she slurred, breath warm against my already flaming face.

 

“Are you daring me?” I asked coyly.

 

“No, but I know you want to.”

 

Rachel batted thick, lengthy eyelashes at me, and I felt myself balancing on my own knees – moving close enough to press our bodies flush together if I were inclined – before I could talk myself out of it. My hand roamed the smooth fabric of her bra before delving beneath it.

 

“Soft,” I rasped out, breath hitching in my throat as I took a taut nipple between forefinger and thumb.

 

“Mm,” Rachel nodded – whether to show approval or affirmation I was unsure – and looked at me through hooded eyes. “Pull me closer.”

 

The voice that escaped her was almost a purr, and I felt myself smiling in delight. Never before had I this affect on my own sex. My free hand reached around her torso, resting on the small of her back. I gently pressed my palm into the groove, trying to appease what she wanted though there wasn't much space to be closed between us.

 

“Close enough?” I asked her, and her eyes twinkled.

 

“Kiss me.” It was a demand, but one without malice or extreme force lacing it. Even so, the two little words rolled around, echoing in my head and I felt my heart thudding in my throat.

 

“Okay,” I squeaked nervously, hoping Rachel didn't notice. “But I-- I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing.”

 

“It's okay,” she soothed, and I felt a teensy bit of relief wash over me. She fished my hand out from beneath her bra, bringing it to her lips and gently kissing the knuckles. “There was a time I wasn't sure either. Don't think too much, just feel.”

 

She let go of my hand, and I situated it at the curve of her hip, my short porcelain fingers fanning out over it. As I allowed my other hand to rest where it lay comfortably on her lower back, I tilted my head, lightly touched down on her mouth.

 

She tasted of Whiskey and Gingers and Cherry Blossom lip balm. I nipped at her top lip before running my tongue over it to soothe the sting, repeated the ritual along her bottom one. My insides felt as though they were on fire, and an involuntary whimper escaped me when she finally opened her mouth, allowing our tongues to tangle together. I pressed the resting palm into the small of her back afresh – needing to feel the warmth radiating off her – before moving it upward and letting my fingers get lost in thick, brown, spirally locks of hair.

 

“You smell so good,” she hummed when I gently tugged her head back, wasting no time in detaching her lips from mine and latching them to the side of my neck.

 

You too,” I breathed. Coconut shampoo mingled with the scent of Shea Butter body cream long soaked up by her skin. “Don't..mark me... Please.”

 

“Too late,” Rachel chuckled. “Sorry.”

 

_Shit._

 

I wondered silently if I had make up with me that would cover it, but didn't have long to contemplate. Rachel's ministrations were wonderfully distracting and had me reacting subconsciously in kind. The palm I'd spread across the curve of her hip snaked easily – almost expertly – under her gown and connected with warm flesh. Index and middle fingers grazed the lacy edge of snug low rise underwear. I wondered what colour they were, if they matched her bra.

 

“Touch me,” she demanded breathlessly when she unlatched her lips from my neck out of need for air rather than want. “Please.”

 

I halted my movements when I felt her pull back from me, spread her legs further apart. Serious apprehension bubbled up from my depths before I could bring myself to connect directly with her sex. I felt her need even through the protective coating of fabric, all heat and slick, sensitive flesh.

 

“Touch yourself,” I said, voice low, tossing the demand back at her.

 

“I'm not going to last long,” she told me, breathing becoming erratic as she snaked a hand down the front of her panties, letting excess fabric of her dress hide her actions.

 

“Shh,” I smiled devilishly. “Feel. Don't think.”

 

She leaned in closer to me again when she felt a need to connect with my mouth, and each time I obliged her, letting her set the tone and pace she wanted to. When I wasn't kissing her, I was watching her. Attuned to her body, I drank in the sight of Rachel taking herself to supreme heights multiple times over, halting her ministrations just before allowing her orgasm to push her over the edge.

 

 _Oh, if my agents could see me now.._ I thought, momentarily ashamed of how much they'd witnessed that they probably hadn't wanted to. I was thankful for the deafening music, having found Rachel to be far from quiet or discreet and knowing she'd be drowned out by it. Fleetingly, I worried about being caught, but a quick sweep of the room and the antics of other party goers crossing my peripheral had me put at ease.

 

“So..fucking..good..” Rachel moaned, picking up her pace and leaning in to touch my lips again.

 

“Yeah?” I asked seductively, pulled from my thoughts, any and all qualms falling by the wayside. “Let it go.”

 

“So close,” she choked out, hips bucking against her hand.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and I took it as my cue to cover her mouth with my own, stifling her screams as an intense orgasm coursed through her.

 

**///**

 

 **“** I have to go,” I said softly after repositioning myself next to her and sitting stationary for a while. She'd straightened up enough to look presentable and was resting her head on my shoulder whilst I ran my fingers through dishevelled curls. “You sure you're okay?” I touched my lips lightly to the top of her head. She had been utterly spent once we'd finally pulled away from each other, tears (the good kind, she'd insisted) sliding down her cheeks.

 

“Yeah,” Rachel mumbled. “I'll be fine.”

 

“You want me to call you a cab or anything before I leave?”

 

“I can do it.”

 

“Are you sure?” She had been a perfect stranger at the beginning of the evening – still was in many respects – but somehow didn't feel so much so any more. Some protective instinct kicked in and I didn't want to leave her there alone until I could be sure she didn't need me.

 

“Yes,” she assured, sitting up straighter and reaching across the table in front of us for her purse, sifting through it for her phone.

 

Confident in her answer, I stood and made my way around the table to the opposite side, where I'd tossed my glasses in effort not to have them destroyed when they'd fallen from their place perched atop my head.

 

“Tonight was...fun,” I told her slowly, searching for the right word as I replaced the shades on my face.

 

“Yeah, that's a pretty accurate description,” Rachel quipped, and I cackled. “Thank you,” she said.

 

“For?”

 

“Making me forget about the stupid fish who broke my heart.”

 

“There are others in the sea, my dear,” I said in response, eyes twinkling despite how fatigued I was. Grabbing my clutch, I left a twenty on the table for her cab fare. “Don't argue,” I told her, holding up a hand when I saw her mouth start to open in protest. She obliged my request, but I heard her call to me as I started to walk away.

 

“Drink lots of water tonight so you're not sick tomorrow.”

 

I nodded.

 

“...Hillary.”

 

It was a statement, and her voice had been low and discreet enough that she probably assumed I hadn't caught it.

 

But I did.

 

_She knows._

 

I whirled around, my sunglasses the only thing masking the true horror dancing across my features.

 

“Secrets are safe with me, remember?” Rachel winked, and for some reason I truly believed her.

 

**///**

 

The neon numbers on the clock flashed four AM when I finally shed my clothes and clumsily found my way up to bed in the dark. Crawling in next to my husband, I attempted to be as quiet as I could so as not to wake him, would have succeeded were it not for hitting my shin on the metal frame of our bed.

 

“Jesus fucking _fuck_!” I cried, unable to stop myself from yelling. Bill turned over and bolted upright, flicking on his lamp.

 

“Hillary!” he shrieked. “What in hell?”

 

“I'm home,” I said, bending over and leaning close to his face. “Did you miss me?” The effects of alcohol were just tapering off, and what was left of them saw me breaking out into a fit of unjustified – and uncontrollable – giggles.

 

“No shit,” Bill drawled. “Thanks for showin' up.” His nostrils flared as he sniffed the air. “Are you drunk?”

 

“Absolutely,” I said emphatically, having no energy or ability in my current state to deny it.

 

Bill rolled his eyes. “Christ. All right, well get in the bed and sleep it off. You've a few hours before we have to be up again.”

 

“I will,” I told him. “I'm just gonna get some water.” I smiled, recalling Rachel's last words.

 

“I'll get it,” Bill said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed to stand. “You'll kill yourself goin' back down those stairs, the state you're in. Get in bed.”

 

“Thank you honey,” I called to his back as I flopped down onto the mattress, giggles overtaking me anew. “Love you!”

 

“...Yeah yeah,” I heard as he made his way down the hall, voice getting further and further away from me. “...stormin' off then showin' up home off your face at four in the mornin'. Ridiculous, I tell you what...”

 

I laughed even harder, knowing he wasn't really mad; that if there was some part of him that was, he wouldn't stay that way long. He never did.

 

**///**

 

“Babe?” Bill questioned me long after I'd nestled myself comfortably beneath the covers and was almost asleep. His hand rested on my shoulder as he propped himself up and peered down at me.

 

“Hmm??”

 

“I'm sorry for what I said earlier.”

 

I half smiled, allowed my eyes to re-close. “I know.”

 

“I love you,” he said thickly, words blanketed in emotion.

 

“I know that too,” I told him. “I love you too. Now please, let me sleep.”

 

“Sorry,” he said, falling back onto his pillow.

 

“Honey?” I heard a couple minutes later, feeling him intently watching me again.

 

 _“What?”_ I asked in complete and total exasperation.

 

“Where was it you went?” he inquired softly. “After we fought?”

 

“That's a story for daybreak, darling,” I answered, because it was.

 


	2. Love You Better

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill's POV. 
> 
> Set the morning after the first chapter.

**Love You Better**

 

Early morning sun peeks through the slats in the blinds, and when I open my eyes my retinas are burned by streaks of bright orange and coral pink. I mumble incoherently and roll onto my side, fanning a hand clumsily over my wife's side of the mattress. Feeling it come up empty, I situate myself upright, fully coming to.

 

“Hill?” I call out to empty space, my voice still coated with the thick of sleep. I am met by silence, the only noise to be heard the shuffling of Maisie's feet as she raises from her horizontal position, claws digging into the comforters as she struggles to get to me.

 

“Where'd Mama go?” I coo at her, and she licks my hand, whimpering in anticipation. “Go find her.”

 

Maisie looks around the room before focusing her gaze back onto my face, and with my nod of encouragement, jumps off the side of the mattress.

 

///

 

“You didn't have her on the bed did you?” My wife questions me several minutes later, waltzing through the door barefooted, the dog following just at her heel. Wisps of blonde hair are still damp from the shower, the toes of her feet are freshly painted blood red.

 

“No,” I lie as she extends a steaming mug of coffee in my direction. I loop two long fingers through the handle, accepting it gratefully. “Thank you.”

 

“You're welcome.” She bends at the waist to better connect with my lips, and when she touches down on them I smile against her mouth, noticing she's wearing one of my old, stretched out white cotton shirts. I nip playfully at her bottom lip, graze my teeth over it in appreciation when I take in the outline of protruding, erect nipples.

 

“Have we run out of painkillers?” she asks me, returning to full height.

 

“I'm not sure,” I say. “Was there none in the medicine cabinet?”

 

“Not that I saw, no.” She positions herself on the edge of the mattress and I feel it shift for change of weight pressing down on it. The tips of her fingers connect with the flesh of her temples and move in slow, methodical circles. An audible swallow fills the space between our bodies as she closes her eyes and attempts to bite back the bile rising in her throat.

 

“I can have an agent run out and get more,” I tell her softly as I set down my mug on a side table before reaching over and halting the movements of her hands, pulling her gently back into my body. “Are you okay?” I whisper against her ear, nipping at the lobe.

 

“I will be,” she assures me with a half smile, though I know she's forcing it. “My head is just still throbbing from last night.”

 

I feel her muscles go limp and she allows me to pull her all the way back down onto the bed, shuffling her body so she is lying on one side facing me. “Where exactly was it that you went?” I ask, gaze locked on her face.

 

“Um,” she shifts uncomfortably, looking away from me. I note the blush creeping slowly across her neck, take in a purplish mark plastered to its side I haven't seen before.

 

“Where did this mark come from?” I ask of her as I gently run my fingers across it.

 

“Oh, nowhere,” she says coyly, her voice raising several octaves.

 

“Hillary,” I chide, and she knows I'm all seriousness having abandoned pet names for her full one. “I know I didn't give that to you.”

 

She sighs deeply, runs her hands over her face, peers apprehensively at me through the spaces between her fingers. “Where did you go?” I probe. “You did promise to tell me in the morning.”

 

She grimaces. “I know, but - “

 

I gently move her hands away from her face, pin them loosely at her sides so as to look directly at her again. “Did something happen? Did you do something stupid? Because whatever it is, it doesn't matter. We can figure it out. After all I've put you through, I--”

 

“Bill,” she says forcefully in attempt to cut me off, freeing one of her hands to hold it up palm out. “All right, I'll tell you.”

 

I release my loose hold on her opposite wrist and lie back, propped on an elbow. She takes a ragged, audible breath and I nod my encouragement.

 

“There was this woman,” she says in a small voice, letting her thoughts trail off and silence fill the air, unsure of exactly how to continue.

 

“A woman,” I say flatly, propping myself up higher to peer down at her. “You had sex with a woman?!”

 

“Yes...no...I mean, not really,” she sputters, covering her face again. “God, I'm just gonna stop talking.”

 

“The hell you are,” I roar emphatically, though I'm not really angry. “Who was she?”

 

“No one,” my wife answers defensively.

 

“Hillary!”

 

“All right!” She turns her face toward me again, having buried it in the down of her pillow seconds earlier. “Just this woman I met when I stopped at a bar.”

 

“You had sex with a civilian?!” I say, incredulous. “Jesus Christ, honey. You know how desperate the tabloids are for that kind of shit!”

 

“I know!” she groans. “But she didn't know who I was. Not for a while. I was wearing shades. And we didn't have _sex_!”

 

“Then what  _did_ you do?” I ask, my mind abuzz with any and all possible scenarios which could have transpired the previous evening. 

 

“I don't know,” she says in exasperation, throwing up her hands. “We just kinda...fooled around a little.” She gesticulates into open space for some kind of added effect, though there are still serious gaps in the story and I have yet to fully understand. 

 

“You.. fooled around?” I enunciate as if needing clarification, raising a brow.

 

“Yes,” she whispers.

 

“In a bar,” I say.

 

“In the back,” she says, offering a tidbit of filler for the vast blanks in my head. “In a booth.”

 

“But you didn't have sex.” I state, utterly perplexed.

 

“I watched her while she had sex with herself,” she tells me, and I can feel my eyes widen.

 

“You watc-- ..Fuck,” I breathe, unable to form coherent thought.

 

“I went in there fully intending to drink a couple alone and then come home,” she explains, needing to fill my stunned silence. “I just wanted to take the edge off after our argument, but I wasn't in the mood to be recognised by anyone. Hence the shades.”

 

I nod.

 

“So in comes this woman. The definition of tall, dark, and handsome in female form. She decides to take the seat next to me and starts telling me about being dumped by her boyfriend...”

 

“So you, having fought with me, bring up that you've been led there by way of a mishap with your idiot husband?” I fill in. 

 

“Exactly,” she chuckles, then realises what she's admitted to. “Well I didn't say it like  _that._ But yes.”

 

She pauses for breath. 

 

...”So she buys me a third drink and we get talking and she just has this  _wonderful_ accent,” she continues. 

 

What little potential there was for anger to manifest has left. I'm situated next to my wife, listening intently to her tirade and desperately trying not to laugh. 

 

“More wonderful than mine?” I ask, needing something to say so that I don't. 

 

“No,” she states with ease and confidence, launching right back into her little adventure without missing a beat.

 

...”I couldn't quite place it at first for all the noise and the effects of the Whiskey, but it's quite reminiscent of South Africa now that I think about it...”

 

My face has turned red with the exertion of trying to bite back fits of laughter.

 

_“What?”_ she challenges once she notices.

 

“Nothin', babe, I'm sorry,” I say, smiling. “Keep talking.”

 

“Right.” She waves a palm around the open space between our bodies again. “So we're talking and drinking our Whiskey, and she asks me to dance with her...”

 

“Did you?” I ask, curious. 

 

“No. I declined, because you know, I can't dance. Not without you. So anyway, I politely said no, but realised I had been drinking on an empty stomach...”

 

“Oh boy,” I cut in, playing my tongue through my teeth.

 

“Right,” she nods. “So I tell her I need to eat and we go sit together in this booth, which leads to more shots and a game of truth or dare...”

 

“She dared you to have sex with her?” I ask.

 

“No no no,” she waves dismissively. “She dared me to take my shades off.”

 

My mouth falls open and my eyes expand to a size the like of saucers. “Did she recognise you?!”

 

“Yeah. But she didn't say so, not til the end of the evening. I used an alias.”

 

“What if she tells someone?” I wonder out loud, the question born more out of a deep seated desire to protect my wife and her reputation than out of worry for myself.

 

“She won't.”

 

“You don't know that,” I say.

 

“Yes I do,” she counters.

 

“How?”

 

“Because I just do. You weren't there.”

 

I nod lightly, letting it go. “So what happened after the shades came off?”

 

“Her dress started to come off,” she says, and my brow shoots upward.

 

“Dare,” she explains, and I nod again, silent 'oh' slipping from my lips. 

 

“We started messing around, which is where the mark came from, and she wanted me to go further. I couldn't bring myself to do it.”

 

“Because of me?”

 

“Well yeah,” she says as if it's obvious. “But also because of me. So we just kind of stayed comfortably at a certain point. Well Rachel didn't,” the devilish smile that crosses her face is not lost on me. “But I did.”

 

“Fuck,” I say again, at a loss for words.

 

She finds my hand, toys with my fingers. “Are you angry?” 

 

“No,” I tell her gently. “Just surprised, that's all.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I just never pegged you as the type to..” I stammer, searching for the right words. “To.. I don't know.”

 

“Play fast and loose?” she winks.

 

“There you go.”

 

“I'm not,” she laughs. “But I was upset. And I'd had quite a bit to drink.”

 

“I'm sorry I upset you,” I tell her, kissing the tip of her nose. 

 

“I know. It's okay.”

 

“It's not,” I say. “But thank you for your forgiveness..Again.”

 

“You're sure you're not upset? I don't want you to resent me.”

 

“Oh, pssh,” I guffaw. “If I could be absolved of all my transgressions I think I can give you this one. No honey, I'm not mad. The only thing that would upset me is if you told me this woman could love you better than I do.”

 

“There is nobody alive that loves me better than you,” she says with a surge of passion, orbs locking with mine. “I promise you.”

 

“So you're not planning on goin' anywhere?” I tease.

 

“Absolutely not,” she says forcefully, rolling onto her back and coaxing me gently on top of her. 

 

“Good,” I say, touching down on her mouth and tangling our tongues together when she grants me access. “Honey?” I ask when I pull away from her, my lungs burning with need for air. 

 

“Mm-hmm?” she answers lazily, gazing up at me.

 

“What was your alias?”

 

She cackles. “Heidi.”

 

“Mm,” I hum against the side of her neck, making slow work of replacing Rachel's markings with one of my own. She sighs her approval, and I know in that moment that she is first and foremost always mine. “That's kinda hot,” I growl. “Can I use that?!”

 

“Bill!” she shrieks as she swats my shoulder, and as we lay laughing and loving together, I know that nobody loves me better.

 


End file.
